


in the woods somewhere

by ashleykay



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drought, F/M, Haunted Woods, Magic, Nymphs & Dryads, Offerings, Period Typical Bigotry, Period-Typical Racism, Tribute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:40:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23833252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleykay/pseuds/ashleykay
Summary: There, in the distance, just beyond the thick trees was a girl, or a ghost. Behind her trailed the thickest vines and flowers, each step a different bloom. Her laughter was bubbles and twisted at his stomach.She glowed.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Mary Lacroix/Sebastian ''Bash'' Lacroix
Comments: 57
Kudos: 90





	1. everything dies and something else lives

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Hozier. In the Woods Somewhere.

**in the woods somewhere**

The summer was sweltering. The heat rose from brittle dying earth in slow suffocating waves. Gilbert had only been back in Avonlea for a few days. The orchard was sickly and the tall apple trees seemed stunted and hollow.

“We have are work cut out for us.” His father's voice was low and fell hard on the parched ground.

Gilbert could remember when the orchard was green and seemed to spill life like a waterfall. Without looking back at his father, he nodded.

“We're lucky to have Bash and Mary with us.” John continued. “This,” John's arms swung in a low arc. “This is not a two man job. And especially not if one of those men is hoping to graduate school and head off to bigger things.”

“I won't leave until-” Gilbert started.

“I won't let you stay.” John said. His voice was firm but careful. “This orchard is a choice. And it will live again. But it does not need your future as a sacrifice.”

Finally he turned towards his father. The sickness that had at first taken them to Alberta lingered in his father's eyes. It turned his skin thin but he lived on. And now they were back. His father was still here. The orchard, though, ragged and fallen was here. It could be, like his father, revived.

“Okay. But I can do both.” And he would. He would bring living breath to the trees and he would finish school for the year, he would pass exams and find his place in the world. He could do it all.

It wasn't just the orchard that withered, all of Avonlea was dry grass and empty bare fields. The only place living was the haunted woods.

“I was talking to Hiram Andrews he said almost no one's crops are doing well.” John snorted. “Was going on about a curse.”

From behind him, Bash's voice appeared. “What curse?”

“I didn't really listen.” John rolled his shoulders and looked at the bare branches. “But he was saying the town was going to talk to someone about either getting the spirits out of the woods or making offerings to it in the woods. Ridiculous. That's what I say. It's just a terrible drought. The rain isn't what were use to here. We just have to put some irrigation in or something.”

“Offerings in the woods?” Gilbert scoffed. “I knew Avonlea could be a bit backwards but that is something else. I can't believe that old codger of preacher would even entertain an idea that sacrilegious.”

“When people can't pin blame on something Little Blythe, they go to all kinds of explanations.” Bash was crouched down his fingers trailing along the ground, dust billowed around his hands. T

Gilbert shook his head. They had promised Bash and then Mary that the orchard would bare them profits. Would be a good and steady future. It knotted his stomach thinking that this is all they came back to.

Mary all ready with child. And the four of them to feed. Had they convinced Bash off that boat and Mary from her steady work, just to fail them.

“First thing we need to do is get water out here. Nothings going to grow from nothing.”

Bash and his father started talking about ditches and water and wells. But in the distance Gilbert saw a glance of something in the woods. Like a string of lights trailing along the edge of the woods.

“Gilbert.”

It was red and white. It was if the light had left him breathless.

“Gilbert.”

Bash shook him and laughed. “Really. Already growing bored of all this?”

“No, sorry. I thought I saw something there. At the edge of the woods.”

“The great spirit? Or is it suppose to be a ghost?”

“Funny Sebastian.” Gilbert shook his head to dispel the vision and the heat. “I think it's the heat. I have no memory of Avonlea being this hot. Still no match of Trinidad, right?”

“I haven't been there in years. But I have to say this heat is different. Has feel to it.” Bash to was staring at the woods. There was no longer a light. But unlike every other part of the island it looked fresh and breathing. The trees seemed to sway with a breeze that went unfelt to those on the ground. The green leaves looked almost living with the way they waved. If he strained he would swear he could hear laughter.

“You're not starting to believe, are you Bash?”

“I don't believe in things I can't see, Little Blythe.”

As they turned to make plans and ditches. The forest waved and danced.

Later, after everyone else had gone to bed, Gilbert crept out . Breathed in the dark night air, he felt something, like an itch he couldn't quite scratch. It guided his feet through the crunching brown grass, pass the trees that stood like grave markers to the apples. It brought him to the edge of the haunted woods. And for the first time it felt as if the name fit. It was full of something. And standing on the edge of it was the same as standing out in the field during a lightening storm. The vibrations in his feet were almost painful. But it felt cooler here. The heat was nothing more than a cool breeze. It was almost too dark, his eyes couldn't seem to adjust. There, in the distance, just beyond the thick trees was a girl, or a ghost. Behind her trailed the thickest vines and flowers, each step a different bloom. Her laughter was bubbles and twisted at his stomach. She glowed. And he couldn't tell if it was real or his imagination. He couldn't see her face but he strained. Daring his foot to keep going past the edge. The stinging was close to unbearable but so was the thought that whoever that was would vanish. He had to see her. To maybe touch her. See if she were bones and blood, if she would disappear. He felt madness claim his hands, his mind, each step unbearable. And yet. Yet, he must, he had to. She was there, the clouds of her laughter, he was in the woods now, a second layer of trees behind him. And she was close he knew, the vines were her breadcrumbs. Or were they his. He was on a path home. Or was it to a candy house. He would feast or he would be the feast. He didn't know. He couldn't remember anything, except her sound, the blooms.

Tears fell across his cheeks and his feet burned. Still he followed. It felt like years, too long, but he couldn't stop.

Then, it was gone, the girl and the vines. His feet ached but the burn wasn't there.

“Hello?”

The woods were too dark. Too empty.

“You shouldn't be here.”

His heart beat, it was hard against his ribs, shaking him.

“Who are you?”

“It doesn't matter. These woods are not yours. Go away.”

He squinted into the blackness. “Please who are you? I saw you, I mean I heard you laughing, the vines. The flowers.” He stuttered on the words. It was all so much. But he felt as if he would die if he didn't see her.

“I am just the woods. I am the trees. That's all you saw. You need to go. Go home.”

“What's your name?”

“I don't have a name.”

“You have to be called something.”  
  


But the voice was gone. But his head felt raw and open. His heart wasn't beating right.

“Who are you?”

He swallowed. “Gilbert Blythe.”

“What do you want? What are you following me for?”

“I saw you, I saw you this afternoon. Like a light in the woods. And then before, at the edge you were glowing. Were you glowing? Like a beacon. I had to see you. It felt like breathing and dying and I had to see you.”

“And if you saw me? What would you do?”

He was shaking. His body and his heart and then his head. “I don't know. I don't know.” He kept repeating it.

“Close your eyes, Gilbert Blythe.”

He didn't want to. But his eyes closed. And the bursting terrible energy stopped. There was a sudden peace that overtook him.

He slept deep and his dreams were cool and full of green.

He woke in his own bed.


	2. reality is strange

It had been a long three days since he'd dreamed of the woods. And it had to be a dream, hadn't it? He couldn't explain how he'd made it back.

But still there were times he could feel thrum of the lightening, the pound of his own heart. It wasn't quite a nightmare and yet.

“Still so strange.”

Gilbert broke his thoughts, tried again to shake off that night.

“What is it?” He glanced up at Mary, who's hands were rubbing at a nearly non existent stomach.

“In the orchard, there's things growing.”

“That's a good thing, right?” The three of them had been digging trenches and trying to find a way to get water to the trees. It had been going slow thanks to the heat.

“It isn't the trees. Just little flowers, all along the orchard, leading up to the house.” Mary hummed. Her fingers ghosting at her belly again. “They smell so nice. And I haven't seen any like them before.”

“They just start in the middle of the orchard?” Gilbert could feel his voice quiver. The light. That girl. He had dreamed her. Because of the heat.

“No, they come from the woods.” Whatever had taken hold of Mary seemed to fall away as she went back to spooning the porridge into bowls.

“You haven't gone into them have you?”

Her head shook and she sat beside him, she looked suddenly very tired. “No, I wanted to. I was going to even. But Bash stopped me. For someone who scoffs at all the talk he is still...” Her voice stopped and she was back to looking far away.

“It is just talk but-” There Gilbert closed his mouth. What could he say. How could he tell her of the dream. Of the ghost. That girl. Her soft voice, the laughter that called to him.

“Staring into the trees, I could have sworn...” Again she stopped. “It was so cool. And I was so hot.”

“It was like being born and dying all at once.” He said. And Mary startled enough to look at him. Almost as if seeing him for the first time.

“Yes.”

“Do you think Bash-”

“No,” she said, her head shaking, “he said I had a strange look on my face. That...that I was almost shaking. John he, well he and Bash had to pull me back a little.” Mary looked almost embarrassed, he had never seen her look that way. She never seemed to falter. “It was odd. This whole thing is odd. I don't know anything about ghost or spirits. I grew up on the bible and God and I don't know. But I do know when something isn't right. The way the town is, the dead land, this heat? Something isn't right. And those woods. How green. Sometimes looking at it, I would swear to you it was like looking at a living person.”

“Good morning Wife!” He could see Mary smile at her husband but it didn't look right. Like it may have been put on crooked. Bash, he could see, had noticed. Bash's face pinched and they looked to be talking without words, without even moving their faces.

“Morning, Bash.” he said trying to break the tension a little. Bash gave him a half smile and settled down beside Mary for breakfast.

“What is it?” His father said as he settled down.

“What do you mean?” He asked. His fingers shaking a little.

“The three of you have a look about you.”

“It's nothing. Just the heat and of course,” Mary gestured to her stomach. “This one is making things hotter.”

John's brows raised and questioned. But Mary and him pretended not to see.

“You're not thinking of going to the woods again.” It wasn't a question.

“Not really.” Her glance to Bash said everything.

“Not at all.” Bash said as he spooned the food into his mouth.

It felt on the tip of his tongue to tease Bash. But he couldn't get the thought of the girl out of his mind.

“A couple nights ago, did...” He tried to think of how to ask. What words would show he wasn't mad. “did anyone notice...” But what could he really ask. Did they see him leave. Did they see a girl carry him back? No they would have told him that much.

“What?”

They were all looking at him. Only Mary seemed to see.

“Nothing. I think I had a nightmare.”  
  


“Well not one that woke anyone else up.” Bash grinned at him.

There was no way of knowing then. What was real. Gilbert curled his toes in his boots. The pain had felt as real as anything.

But how could it be. The haunted woods had been strange for so long. Even when Gilbert was little. But not like this.

But then, he could remember once, when he had been very young, walking along the trees, he had fallen, tripped. He had been crying his leg bleeding and sore. And somehow his father had found him. But thinking of it now. Hadn't his father been at the orchard, he could almost recall that he had been left at the house, told to stay inside. The ground had been sturdy and even through the pain then he had a strange feeling of safety.

“If those flowers can take root, then the trees have a chance.” They conversation had continued around him, his father and Bash still focused on the orchard.

But Mary caught his eyes. Mary had a way of seeing. Her fingers brushed his hand. The hand that was still gripping the spoon.

“You hear it too?” She whispered to him.

“Like laughter?” If he closed his eyes. It was there, the bubbles. The blooms.

“What could it be?”

He shook his head. “I don't know. It doesn't...it can't be.”

“And yet.”

And yet it was.

* * *

“Well, if it isn't Gilbert Blythe?” He bit back the groan. Of all the people to see. It would have to be Billy Andrews.

“Hello, Billy.”

“I like to go by William now, taking over the family business.” _Billy's_ smirk was still as annoying as he remembered.

“That's great.” Gilbert went back to looking at the list Mary had given him.

“My father told me you were back. Said you brought in some help.”

“Bash and Mary aren't help. Billy.” He stressed Andrews name. It felt as harsh as any insult. “They're family. And part owners.”

“Well, _Bud_ , you can't go bringing coloreds back here thinking we wouldn-”

“Don't talk about them like that. And I am not your bud.” The shake was back in his hands. Suddenly he felt the terrible itch of that night, it whispered that hitting him wasn't all that terrible.

“I was just going to warn you, bud,” Gilbert's feet started to burn.

“Thanks, Billy. But I don't need anything from you.”  
  


“People will talk, and with all this going on. Don't you think someone's going to pin this on them.”

Bewildered. “Pin what?” Billy's smirk grew. “The drought? That's been going on for years? Exactly how could my family be responsible for it, when we only came back a week ago.” But even as he said it he remembered Bash's words in the orchard. If people couldn't find a reason they were going to pin it on something or someone. “Besides, I thought, according to your own father, it was nothing but spirits or ghosts. Or whatever it is you make offerings to.”

Andrew's smirk fell. “My father doesn't really believe that. It's the town being idiotic.”

“Sure. Just like if the town were to blame the new people for a years old problem. Idiots.” Gilbert could tell he hit a nerve.

“Look, Bud-” Luckily he was cut off by David Brown calling Gilbert to the counter.

Stepping up he felt the heat sink into the ground. Felt the rawness toughen. He smoothed the list out and went forward.


	3. there in the dark is a beginning

The most surprising thing was that it took Rachel Lynde a whole week and a half to show up on the Blythe-LaCroix farm.

Her smile was wide but wary. Bash and John were out in the far left field and he'd been helping Mary with moving furniture.

“Well, Gilbert Blythe, we were all so sure and certain you'd never be back. Why it was just last month that I was talking with Marilla, saying it was just so sad that you'd all left and let the orchard go to waste. Well, more waste, what with the problems all our farmers have been having and all.”

Rachel had already pushed herself in the kitchen and sat at the table, the thing with Rachel was she needed no invitation. Mary, without introduction, was busy getting the tea ready and plating a few sweets.

“Well then,” Rachel continued. “I heard you had brought some people with you.”

With nothing else to do, Gilbert cleared his throat. “Yes, Mrs. Lynde, this is Mrs. Lacroix. Bash, that is Mr. Lacroix, her husband, is our business partner. Bash and Mary,” Gilbert nodded his head toward Mary who was watching warily, “They're family.”

“Well, there's a first for everything,” was all that Rachel said.

The silence dragged on a minute. Almost too long.

“Well don't you have any questions about what it's been like here in Avonlea? And you Gilbert, do you have a girl? There's a few here that had their eye on you. Although, Ruby Gillis has finally settled on Moody Spurgon McPherson. Going to be a minister. Diana's just come back from her first year in Paris. No boy around her is good enough for a Barry.”

Gilbert couldn't stop the laugh. “I really don't have to ask any questions, you seem to have all the answers anyway.”

“You were always a bit cheeky.” Rachel humphed but a smile turned at her lips.

“A bit?” Mary said as she poured the tea.

“Always had a horrible charm to him. Could grin his way out of trouble with just about anyone. I have to admit, I would have thought you'd have charmed yourself straight into at least a courtship by now, none of the girls around here could ever resist him.”

He felt himself blush from the tip of his ears down.

Mary just laughed. “Oh he has had his share of admirers but none he's ever really wanted to stop for. Wants to finish up school and become a doctor. Doesn't have the time for distractions, so he says.”

“Mary likes to exaggerate, never really had a line of anyone. But it is true I haven't the time for someone. I do hope to get into med school at some point. I don't feel as if I have much to offer as it is right now.”

“You've gone to secondary then?”

Gilbert nodded. “Out in Alberta. I had wanted to maybe go to Queens but it didn't work out but they had a nice college out there, it served the same. I am taking some time off before applying to University, help get the farm going again.” Suddenly he was struck with the thought of the bright flower path. “Although I guess we really didn't understand just how bad it was.”  
  


“So many farms have gone under. It's such a struggle. I feel it hasn't rain in such a time. We lift up prayers daily but...”

It hadn't rain since Gilbert had been back at least. And with the state of ground in the fields, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn it had been a few weeks.

“And all this pish posh about woodland spirits. Why Abner Boulter is talking about storming the woods to find the 'spirit' that lives there. He's as foolish as the rest. Some folks want to find some sort of witch doctor. Really, after it took so long to get those savages out of the woods. If I believed in such things, which I don't, I assure you, I'd say it was them. Those Indians took it awful hard when they were told they couldn't just go on living like that in the woods. And when the government came and tried to help them by giving their children an education, well that's when they scattered. Haven't seen hide nor hair of them since then, and why it's been at least three years.”

Mary looked upset but she hid it quickly as Gilbert caught her eye. “When did the drought begin?”

Rachel sighed and shook her head. “Before that. Some of the boys would buy hockey sticks from them, and they did help once when Moody took a fall. I heard from Ms. Stacey, she was a teacher for a very short time, too modern and no decorum, well anyway she said that one of their troop or tribe or what ever it is they call themselves said that we had upset a forest spirit. Or maybe it was a tree spirit. But all it came down to was that the town had upset it. Never would say what it was we supposedly did. But the trouble really happened years before that. It started with a terrible rain, it rained for days. No, it had rained for weeks. We had floods. Washed away paths and we were lucky no one died. But it was close. And then as if someone woke up. It stopped. And the sun came out and it was so warm. Just kept climbing. No stopping. Oh, every once in awhile we get some rain, and the wells never seem to empty. The creeks never dry up. But the land never really seems to heal. Just gets drier and drier. I don't buy into the idea of spirits, goes against my christian values, but well, it is very strange. The way the woods always seem to fair fine. We've lost nearly ten families to it. Just packed up and moved. And no one really goes into the woods anymore. Seems it's only in the midst of the woods, the paths fair fine.”

Gilbert found he did have questions. But they weren't about his marrying schoolmates or who was doing what. But again, it was Mary who's voiced them first.

“What happened around then?”  
  


“Nothing really to extraordinary. We almost had a new little girl around here. Matthew and Marilla were going to adopt this homely little thing. She was tiny and thin. They didn't pick for her for her looks that's for sure and certain. She had a temper too. Lashed out at me when I pointed out to Marilla that the girl was a bit..well no way to say it but to say it, she wasn't attractive. And it was an accident, them getting her, they had wanted a boy to help with the farm, and through some sort of misunderstanding the asylum sent them the girl. They ended up sending her back. Took her back to the Bright River station. And other than that, well I can't think of anything. It was already happening when those talks of Mr. Philips and Prissy Andrews came out. And then their engagement. And then right there at the end Prissy ran out on him and he left. Prissy doesn't come back often. She went off to Queens and well, I think the Andrews are ashamed of her behavior. She's gone and gotten big ideas. Thinks all modern. Wanted to take part in the family business. Usurp her brother. Well thinking on it. Strange things were happening all the time after the floods. But I can't think on anything terrible happening before them. If I were to be asked, I'd say we were just being tested. Like Job. We'll come through it just fine. Given time.”

“Hasn't it already been nearly six years?”  
  


“God has the sight and and we must follow.” It was the shortest explanation he could have gotten from Rachel. But it seemed that was all she had to say. At least on that. Tea went on another terrible forty or so minutes before she was bustling herself out of the house.

“Well.” Mary said. “She sure knows how to talk. Doesn't she.”

That night after Bash and Mary had gone to bed, Gilbert sat in his father's room. He tried to explain about Billy and then what Rachel had said. His father was to rational to take any of the gossip to heart but he did worry alongside Gilbert about Bash and Mary.

“People have always been like that. And I doubt it will change. But it isn't right. And we must always do what is right. We will stand up for and with Bash and Mary and I'm afraid that's the best we can do. Most of these old fools haven't been anywhere but this town and this island. They are ignorant.”

But about the woods and the spirits he didn't have much to say. Just rolled his eyes. “Science is the answer. And it's the reason.”

And as much as he had wanted to explain to his father about what had happened before, he found he couldn't.

He went over the words in his head. Tried them on and dismissed them. Words were not his best ability. He was much like his father and understood logic and facts better. Yet now, he was at a loss.

There was something strange happening. And it had been for awhile.

When he was sure his father was sleeping soundly he took to the woods. He

Like before he could feel the temperature change the closer he got. The heat was burning his feet. And his heart beat changed. But he couldn't leave. He couldn't turn away till he stopped thinking about before. He needed to know it was make believe.

“Please. Talk to me. If you're there. It's Gilbert.” he felt foolish. But he continued, no one was around to see him. “Remember. Gilbert Blythe. You took me home.”

He strained but there was no laughter this time. The woods were so dark.

“I just want to know. What was done. Why is the land dying or dead. Who are you?”

Still there was nothing. He walked on. His fingers trailing along the trees.

“Why are you back, Gilbert Blythe?”

And there she was. She was close to nude and yet covered. There was vines trailing up her legs and over her stomach, they led up her chest and winded on her throat. The blooms that spread across the ground, were bright on the vines. She looked like the painting he had seen in museums.

She was not glowing. But it seemed as if the trees had parted and left the moon as their light.

“What are you?”

Her mouth twisted and dropped. “Why are you here?”

“I didn't know...” He trailed off, her hair was sunset over the warm ocean. It made him wince. Like he was looking into the sun. “I just...” was this real? It must be. And yet it felt like a dream. “ Are you real?”

He took a step closer. She didn't look anything like a ghost. Not that he had seen one of those either. But she seemed solid like himself. She was warm. He could feel the heat coming from her.

“What a stupid question. Of course I am real. Can't you see me.”

“Yes. Yes, I see you. But you look nothing like...” Her face twisted again. She looked almost as if she were preparing to be hit. “I've never seen anything like you.”

The girl narrowed her eyes and stepped forward. “What does that mean, Gilbert Blythe? Are saying I am-”  
  


“You're beautiful. I've never seen anything more,” he swallowed, “stunning, than you.”

She recoiled.

“Well, I am real. Is that all you wanted? You don't belong here.” He saw something move behind her. It's antlers were so large. He bit back the fear.

“Is that? No, it can't be.” But there it stood. It came trotting forward. Standing behind her. She wasn't the sun. No, she was something else. “There haven't been any caribou on the island for years. They've-”

“They came back. They are safe here. You're the one who doesn't belong.”

“How-”

“What does it matter to you? Going to grab some of your friends and hunt them again. Run them off. Take their lives and their homes.” She came barreling at him. “Despicable. Rotten man.”

The heat was back, the pounding of his heart. His vision blurred as she got closer. But through the pain he saw she had freckles. Dozens of them. Stars. They looked like stars.

“No. no. I am...I've never...I am not much of a hunter. I've never even seen one this close before.”  
  


“You-”  
  


“I know, I don't belong here. But I had to. I had to see you.” She shrunk back from him. A fox appeared from the trees and wove inbetween her feet.

“You've seen. You know now. Go home.”

“I want to know you.”

She shook her head. “I am not for you. I am-”

But stopped and said nothing else. But he couldn't stop looking at her. The animals coming from the dark parts around them. Seeming to seek her out. He felt as if was one of them. Just a little fox or squirrel seeking out her warmth, even though he was already so hot.

“What's you're name?”

“I don't have one.”

“You must be called something.”

She snorted, but somehow she gave him a small almost invisible smile. “The animals know me and the trees too. The flowers call me but it's not like you would. They call me nothing but I know it's them.”

“What should I call you?”  
  


“Nothing. You have no need to call me.”

“I- I have to call you. I can feel you sometimes. Even in town. The other day, I was talking to Billy-”

“Terrible boy. Awful. Scoundrel. I hate him.”

The pressure built inside of him. He might burst. Then it was suddenly gone.

“You do feel me.” Her head tilted. “That's awful strange.”  
  


“Mary she can feel you too.”  
  


“Who's Mary? Your wife?”

He shook his head. Tripping over his denial. “No, she's my sister. In a way. She was here. Well at the edge, a day or so after I was here last. She heard you, she heard your laughter.”

“Oh, yes. I remember her. I like the look of her. She was singing to the baby. It was so lovely. It made me happy. Sometimes the mothers aren't happy.”

“Mary is looking forward to meeting them.”

Her smile was wide and bright. Dimples opened on her cheeks. It almost hurt to see her.

“You can't stay here.” Her smile fell as she said it.

“Why, I, I don't want to hurt you or anything. I-” But he didn't know how to tell her what he did want. He didn't know what he wanted either.

“These woods aren't safe for you. And not for the others hidden in here. You are a danger to them. And they could be a danger to you.”

“I want to be able to see you again. I want to know why-”

“I can't tell you why the ground is dry. I don't think I've done it. Or if I have I don't think it is on purpose.” She shook her head and moved to him again. “Come on you must away. You have to.”

“Please-”

“I will see you again, Gilbert Blythe. But not now. No, you have to go. You are making them uncomfortable.”

“Who?”

She shook her head again. He found his feet moving towards the edge of the woods without meaning to.

He tried again. “Who? Who is doing this then?”

Again she didn't answer him.

“What can I call you?” He could see the orchard through the trees. “Please. What can I call you?”

“I told you, I have no name.”

“You are like the woods, the flowers. Shall I call you after one of those.”

“Nothing, call me nothing. I am nothing. Go.”

And then he was out of the woods, standing at the edge of his property and the beginning of something else.


	4. the price is not negotiable

The next morning he was unusually quiet. It was real. All of it. Which meant the curse was too. That none of this was natural.

That ruddy haired women, her voice, Gilbert shuddered, it wasn't just his dreams. But he was left with a deep terrible gut feeling.

What did this mean?

“I am going to go to Charlottetown.”

“Any particular reason?” John asked. “It doesn't seem like we are out of anything.”

He didn't meet his father's eyes. John would never really understand.

“I wanted him to take me to visit Joceyln and Constance. I want to be able to see them before I can't travel.”

“And you didn't want to ask me, Wife?” Bash was laughing.

“You know you to will have to learn to get on without Gilbert eventually, might as well get a taste of it.”

\------

“What happened?”

They weren't far from the orchard, he took a deep breath and noticed they were coming up on the path that divided the haunted woods. Would the girl be able to hear him. Would she be angry if he told someone. Would it put Mary and the baby in danger from those things she was warning him against last night?

“I'll tell you when we are out of the woods.”

“Then it is real.”

From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of something. Not the blur, and he couldn't hear the music. Just the soft breeze rustling the trees and the wheels on the ground. The feeling was uneasy and it seemed to catch his breath.

Mary shifted beside him, and then she squirmed restlessly. Her hands were fluttering to her belly.

“Mary. Are you-”

She broke him off with a groan.

And then suddenly, there was the girl.

“What are you doing?” He yelled. “You're hurting her. The baby.”

But the girl shook her head and her long red hair fluttered. Almost moving the wind with it.

“NO! Not me, Gilbert Blythe! It's the them. It is afraid of you.”  
  


“They don't have to be afraid of anything, we are just going on the path. I thought the path was safe.”

Then she stepped closer. The flowers followed behind her. Beside him, Mary hands cradled her stomach. Her eyes were so wide but her breathing slowed.

The flower girl placed her hands over Mary's rounded belly. “Baby.” She said. Her pale fingers cupped and caressed, the face was soft in wonder and then she hummed. The sound so soft and soothing.

Mary's wide eyes closed and she smiled. Pale and dark fingers rubbed along the belly together.

“She will be good. And kind.”

Mary gasped. “You know what it will be.”

“Yes. Oh yes, I see her. A little Queen. She is lovely. She is wonderful.”

“Who are you?” Gilbert murmured.

“No one, Gilbert Blythe. You must keep on. And don't look into the woods. The Them, they think you will steal from the woods.”

“I am not trying to-”  
  


“It is how they feel. They must save themselves and they must save the others.”

“I just want to know you.”

The girl shook her head. “There is nothing to know.”

Then she looked back at Mary. “You and your little queen will be safe.”

“Thank you.” Mary looked close to tears. But she didn't seem at all afraid. “I-Thank you.”  
  


“I'll see you pass safely. But you mustn't look for me. I will be in the beyond. Just past where you see. But I will watch you. Don't be afraid. The Them will not see you now.”  
  


Her soft blue eyes fell to Gilbert. “Are you leaving for good?”

He shook his head.

“Then you must call to me, call to me on your way back and I will listen and guide you home.”

“I don't know how-”

“You called to me before. Just now, when you were scared.”

“I didn't know. “

“I told you, I can hear the calls, in the flowers or the wind. I can hear you, Gilbert Blythe.”

“This would be easier if you told me your name.”

“I don't have one. Not anymore. I am just-” But she paused and looked for the first time a little frightened. Something passed on her face.

“I could give you a name.”

“NO! No, I must not have one. I know that. It's- Names have meanings. Just feel the woods for me. I will find you.”

She seemed to fade away from the path, the only way to be sure it was all real was the path of bright fragrant flowers.

As the horses began to move they crushed the blooms under hoofs and wheels. It made his stomach lurch.

They made it through the path into the road to Charlottetown.

He felt the tension leave his back, but also the soft pull on his heart was gone.

“I went to her last night.” He said it as much to Mary as to dirt path and himself. To make it all real.

“Why?”

He shook his head, “I had to know I wasn't losing my mind. Mary, it's like she's in my blood. I don't understand it. But when I was in town before, in the shop, it was like I knew where she was. I-” He stopped. It wasn't right, the way he was telling it. It wasn't his blood, it went deeper. In the marrow of his bones. Like she possessed him, But she didn't understand it any better. She had called it strange too. “I need to know what is happening. To the woods, to myself. To the town. How can the orchard live if it is her?”

“I don't think it's her. If she wanted to get rid of everyone, why let us out? Why lead us back? When she touched me-” In all the time he had know Mary, had gotten to call her sister, he had never seen the look she now wore. Soft and nervous. “I felt her kindness. Her joy. Like a breeze and sunshine. Like the best of all days. I can't believe someone that gives a feeling like that is killing anything.”

“She mentioned she didn't think she was doing it. Or that if she was, she wasn't meaning to. She had mentioned that there were others in the forest. That I made them uncomfortable, she was rushing me off. I-It wasn't the first time I saw her. Before, when we had only been here for a couple of days. I felt like the woods were calling to me. I was out there and I..I saw her, just a glimpse, not even her face. I saw the flowers. But it was to much. Like burning and dying and then I fainted. I think. I woke up in my bed.”

“And there were flowers leading up to the house.”

He nodded. “I thought maybe she was a dream.”

“What does Charlottetown have to do with all this?”

“I thought maybe I could go to Queens library. Or I don't know, find someone, somewhere with any information.”

“In the Bog, there was talk of a magic women. Like a witch doctor.” Mary wasn't looking at him, her fingers were drawing patterns on her bump. Her eyes were straight ahead, she sounded almost far away. “My mother never let me go down that way. Said she was evil. I told you, I've always been about church and it's true. But there's so much we don't know. About the world. About what exists in it, alongside God. She was still around, the witch, before I left. There were rumors about her. About what she could do.”  
  


“Do you think it's safe?”

Mary laughed but it didn't sound anything like joy. “We're living in a town that's dying. We met a girl who could tell what I carry inside me. She made flowers bloom from nothing. I am not sure anymore what safe is anymore.”

Gilbert forced his eyes not to water. “I would understand if you wanted to go back. To stay there awhile. Until we know for sure. I can't- I don't want anything to happy to her.”

“I know you don't. A daughter.” This time the laugh was softer. “I couldn't leave Bash behind. And I can't take him from his home. He's been searching for it so long. To have something of his own.”  
  


“You, Mary, you are his real home. And if you think he wouldn't be just as happy in the Bog with you as on a farm, you couldn't be more wrong. If he thought for a minute you or that baby were in danger-”

“I know. But, even though everything seems, I don't know, I feel as if I can't. I can't leave, Gilbert.” When she finally turns to him, her eyes are glistening. “I am afraid. But I know I can't leave. I don't even want to.” Her breath was ragged as she sighed. “We must see it through.”

“And if the price is to high?”  
  


“I think we have no choice now, we must pay it.”

He shivered, there were prices to high to pay. If he had to he would move the whole family somewhere else till he figured it out.

\------

The Bog was strangely quiet, the usual bustle and rush of workers and children were absent. Mary paused beside him, her hand squeezed his arm.

“What do you know about this witch?”

“Not so loud!” Her eyes dart around. “Not much. Just that she lives in a little shack, out by the water. It's-” She quiets as she shakes her head. “Look at me, a wife, almost a mother twice over and I'm twitchy like a child.” She huffs a breath and juts her chin towards the west. “That way. We should be able-”  
  


“No, I'll go alone. You go and visit your friends.”

“Are you sure?”

Gilbert nods. “You are twitchy. Keep you and that girl inside you safe. I will tell you everything, if I can find anything, go and relax and enjoy yourself. I will come back for you as soon as I can.”

He drops her off at the laundry and keeps on his way. There is a strange cold breeze that bites at his neck and fingers. It is so different than the way it is at the orchard. In Avonlea the heat is oppressive and unrelenting, still the cold is unusual for the middle of summer. He follows Mary's instructions and follows a little brown path towards a little ramshackle building. There are towering ivy and thick odd grass everywhere.

He feels that same terrible nervousness, like he had on the path in the woods. And then suddenly it's gone. Instead he feels that warmth, the same as when the girl is near, only less painful. His feet heat up and his heart stumbles in it's beat but he knows he will be fine. She is with him.

Lifting his fist to knock, he is shocked when the door opens without a him making a move.

“Gilbert Blythe.” The woman inside says, her eyes are startling green and her smile is wide and pleasant.

She looks nothing like he thought a witch might.

“I know,” She laughs, “Everyone always expects old and wrinkles and cackling.” She waves him in. “I am Seraphine. And I think I can lead you right where your meant to be.”

“How do you know-”  
  


“Everything?” Her laugh is like a cackle. “Sit and I will let you know what I am willing to tell.”

He sits stiffly in a chair in front of a fire. The flames look different. Not red or yellow, but not unlike those colors. The heat from the hearth is pleasant and still, like everything else, strange.

“Don't mind the fire. It is doing what must be done.” She pours him tea and pushes a plate of what look like cookies at him. “So you have a forest upset and it's protectors frightened. And one little dryad on your side. Lucky for the last one. It might be the key to everything.”

“How do you know about her, can you feel her too? And I didn't mean to upset anything. The dried up farms were there long before I returned to Avonlea.”  
  


“I know of her, I can see her, Just barely. She is like all things in nature brimming with growing and life and the hibernation of winter. The forest is trying to protect itself and her. They are under the impression that you are trying to take her away from them.”

His stomach began to ache. “I'm not trying to take anything-”  
  


“Aren't you? Going into the woods to see her? Searching for a name?” Seraphine's eyebrows raise. “Trying to give her one?”  
  


“What's wrong with wanting to know what to call her?”

“Names, Blythe, have meaning in the otherworlds. It is a matter of possession. Of belonging. She isn't yours. She is the woods and the animals. She belongs to them. If you name her. If she accepts that, she is lost to them.”

“Will she die?”

“In her own way. The part of her that is theirs will.”

“I don't want to hurt her. But I feel her. I know her.” His insides feel as if they are knotting. Ripping from the pressure. “I don't have any desire to possess her.”

“Not yet. But they see, as I do, what paths are being set.”

“Then we should leave. Leave the orchard, Avonlea. We can leave her.”  
Seraphine brings her hands to his face, wipes away the sweat and then down his cheek to his tears. “Things, Gilbert Blythe, are already moving. You have stumbled upon the cure for your town. You can leave. Leave and you will ache and burn but Avonlea will crumble. Stay and you may save everyone.”

“By killing her.”

“She isn't meant to live. Not this way. It is what's best. For the woods and for her. She doesn't know it yet. But she will be thankful in the end.”

“There has to be some other way. Some way she can live and so can Avonlea.”

When she looks at him her eyes are heavy and dark, no green at all, “No. One has to pass. The town or the girl. It is the way of it. There is nothing else. It must all be set right. It was all started to save them, to keep them from being hurt, but it has become twisted and terrible. A life debt must be paid. Them or her.”

The strange fire burned and hissed and her eyes grew so dark, Gilbert could do nothing but weep. 


	5. and then there was truth

All he could think of was her face, pale and freckled, her bright kind eyes. The dryad's hands on Mary's belly. How was he suppose to kill her.

Would the dying hurt? The thought of causing her pain left him feeling sick. He wanted to heal, to fix the world around him. To give something of hope.

How could he, after doing what Seraphine had suggested, go on to become a doctor. How many lives would he have to save to make up for taking this one.

“Can you speak on it now?” He could feel Mary's eyes on him, as he gripped the reins tighter.

“I don't-” But he stopped. He did know. He wished he didn't. “The witch's name is Seraphine. But she isn't- she looks young. But she knew me when she opened the door. She knew of the dryad girl. Of the troubles in Avonlea. She said how it could all be fixed.” All the towns talk of offerings. All the whispered hush of sacrifices. And it was the forest girl herself that had to be offered up. Her life that was the only sacrifice.

“Well?”

He still didn't look at Mary. “Maybe you and Bash and Dad can go live at the Bog for awhile. Just until this is over. Just to be sure.”

“We've already talked this over.” Mary's hands were warm on his arm. He hadn't realized he was still so cold.

“I have to kill the girl.”

“What!?”

“Seraphine said that it is either the girl dies or Avonlea does. The land can't heal till she's gone.”

He felt rather than saw Mary's head shake. “So she is-”  
  


“No, she said it was the others, what the dryad called the Them. I don't think the forest girl is trying to do harm. I can't see that being true. But the forest is trying to keep us from her. Or her from us. I am not sure which way is the truth. Only that as long as the girl lives, Avonlea can't.”

“How?” She was clutching at her stomach now, her dress bunching under her palms. “How are you- What are you going to do?”

“I don't know. I- Seraphine didn't say how I was to kill her. She said something about the girl accepting a name or finding out her name would cause her to die. But she simply said I had to choose. The girl or Avonlea.”

“A name?”

“She said names had meanings in the otherworld.”

“A means to own or have someone.” Mary whispered.  
  


Finally he looked at Mary. She was worried, he could tell, her mouth twisted and brows drawn.

“Yes.”

“Will- Are you-” Mary's sigh gushed by. And she sounded wounded and wet. “Is it going to hurt her?”

“I don't know. I don't want this.” When he opened his mouth again, he expected a colorless laugh, it came out a sob. “I don't want to do it. Or make this choice. She said- She said it was up to me. That it was me that had the means to save one or the other. Not both.”

The horse came to a trotting stop and neighed. Mary took the reins from his hands and held them.

“Gilbert.”  
  


He shook his head and tried to catch his breath. He wished he hadn't wanted to know so much. That he believed in the dream. Wished for the first time they hadn't come back to Avonlea.

Her long red hair swept into his mind. The pounding of his heart, the way the trees parted for her.

Avonlea where he was born, where his mother was buried, it would dry up into dust.

All the people he'd ever met, that he had played with in his youth. They would die or they would leave.

Mary and Bash would have to go back to the Bog. Take jobs that paid low wages. The promises his dad and he had made them, would fall away.

That girl. That beautiful, strange creature. She would cease to be. By his own hand.

“I don't know what is right anymore.”

Mary shuddered next to him, her hands gripping the reins tighter. “Me either. But we know you. And we trust you. No matter what. We are family and we are in this together.”

He caught his breath, sucking it back in from the air. There was nothing more to be done. A choice had to be made and kept.

“I'll have to tell Bash and my Dad. It's time.”

With a jerk of the reins they were off again. And this time there was no going back.

\-----

It was well past dark by the time they hit the edge of the path. He tried to recall what exactly he'd been feeling when he had, as she said, called to her before.

The hot terrible fear. That's what he remembered. Mary's groans. The shaking way she'd grabbed at her stomach.

Now there was a fear. But it wasn't the same. Now, he was afraid she would come. Afraid she wouldn't. And what would be worse. She always knew. As if she had sprouted like a seed inside him.

“Gilbert.” He had to keep Mary safe. Mary's voice was soft and felt far away. “Are you calling her?”

He was trying. And hoping he failed. He looked at Mary and shook his head. “I don't even know how I did it before. I don't know if I want to now.”

“Are you going to go through with it?”  
  


He thought of Seraphine's eyes. The awful darkness, the mysterious fire. What had the witch said, that the girl wasn't meant to live this way. That she would thank him.

Could death be the right thing?

“Gilbert Blythe.” And there she was. The girl. The dryad. She was smiling at him. Her cheeks dimpled. And she was looking at him.

She was ethereal.

She may thank him someday.

But he would never thank himself.

“Hello.”

She came to the buggy, her fingers trailing along the horse. It shivered and it seemed that it leaned into her. With her came the scent of the woods and the streams. The world after the rain. Her hair fell and it waved like the sea. His fingers clenched, he wanted to trace the vines that trailed her arms. He saw himself kissing her.

“I could hear your call. It was lovely. Like a song.” She laughed and it rang out like breeze. “Did you find what you were looking for, Gilbert Blythe.”

He nodded.

“You use to talk more. Have you nothing to say now?” The dimples disappeared, and his heart twisted.

“Sometimes I forget what to say, when I see you.”

Mary laughed beside him and the smile curled around the dryad's face again.

“Just sometimes?” Mary said under her breath.

“Why do you always call me by my full name?”  
  


“Is that wrong?” Flowers opened up on the vines across her stomach.

“Not wrong. Just unusual. You can just call me Gilbert. You can call her, Mary” He titled his head towards the woman sitting beside him. But his eyes never left the forest girls.  
  


“Names are important to you.”

“Aren't they important to you?”

Her eyes went wide again. Like they had before, when names came up that morning. A look of remembering and then fear passed like a shadow over her face. When it did the flowers that were blooming seemed to shrink and close.

“I-” She swallowed and ran her fingers again over the horse. “I suppose so. Names to us are not just words. They are like a spell. A warning and a blessing.”

He caught her eye and refused to look away. She didn't either. He saw sunsets and stars in her eyes. And yet, unlike, the night he first met her, there was something almost human there now.

“Have you ever had a name?” There she took a step back, the vines seemed to slip from her and her hair hung for a moment limp. For just that second, she seemed to be just a girl. Ordinary and scared. But still so lovely. Maybe, he thought, more so. She was real then in a way none of rest of this seemed.

“I think so.” It was said low.

The wind picked up and the trees seemed to reach for them. It was startling enough that whatever had come over the both of them, fell away and the vines and flowers brightened again.

Her hair became alive and her smile began to slide again across her face.

The dryad turned and made her way into the woods. “I will get you home safely, Gilbert, Mary, and little Queen.”

\-----

Bash was waiting for them on the porch. Before the horse and buggy had been put away, Bash had been eyeing them with questions.

“Are you going to tell me what's really going on?” Bash said before he was even in his seat at the table.

He knew Mary was looking at him and so was his Dad.

“It's about the woods.” He could hear the snort from his Dad in the corner.

“Gilbert-”

Mary interrupted before Bash or John could say anything more. “It's true. All of it.”

It was Bash who spoke first. “Now, Mary.”

“No, listen.” She shuddered and took a deep breath. “I know how it sounds. But we've seen her. She's- There are no words for what she is.” Tears dripped down Mary's face, when Bash got up and kneeled in front of her, she seemed surprised that her face was wet.

“Mary, I don't know what you saw out there, but-”

This time it was Gilbert who spoke. “She's real. Whatever is happening in this town. It isn't science. It's something I can't explain. But it's not weather related. It's something in the woods. I know how it sounds. I know what you're thinking. But we've seen her. Talked to her. She is-” How could he tell them. How could he make them understand.

“She's what?”

When he finally looked at the rest of his family. He saw Mary still crying. Slow tears trailing down her cheeks and chin. Both Bash and his Dad, looked at best skeptical, but they were listening.

“She is like the woods. Vines across her body. The flowers that led up to the house, they grew under her feet. She can speak to animals. She knew about the baby.”

“What?” Bash turned to his wife and then dipped his head to her belly.

“It's true, Bash. It's-” Mary's hands patted at her husband's head. “The path was, there was something, it felt as if my heart was beating to fast, there was so much pressure at my stomach-” Bash cut her off with a startled broken sound.

“She did this!”

“NO!” All eyes flew back to Gilbert and he swallowed hard. “No, it isn't her. It's the woods, she called it the Them. It was like burning, I thought the path was safe, then she came, she came and whatever it was stopped. She gave us safe passage through the path and back again.”

“What is it, you think, is going on?”

He turned to his Dad and tried to stop the fear from rising. “I don't know. I talked to someone in the Bog.”

“So you lied to me?” That was Bash. He sounded wounded.

“I'm sorry. I just-”

“She did it for me.” Gilbert said. “I went to the girl, the night before the flowers showed up. I felt like I had to go to woods. Like it was calling for me. It was painful. My feet burned. I thought my heart might burst. I didn't get a clear look at her then, I just heard her voice. I fainted. Or something. She brought me back here. And last night. I went to the woods again. I saw her. I talked to her. I had to know she was real. And she was. I saw animals in the woods, ones that have been gone from the island for so long. The trees parted for her.” He shivered, remembering her face, the sea waves of her red hair. “She's real. I know. I know how it sounds. I would never believe. But I've seen- It's all real.”

“So, if this is all real, what do we do?”  
  


He met Mary's eyes and she nodded.

“I have to kill her.”


	6. there is no saving the wicked

Morning came early and dark. As if Avonlea knew what Gilbert had finally spoken out loud.

There was no rain or breeze but the clouds hung overhead. Downstairs Gilbert could hear his father getting ready for church. It was the first Sunday since they returned. Still Gilbert stayed in bed. His memories of the minister's sermons left little doubt in his mind that he wasn't ready to sit in the congregation.

“Gilbert, why aren't you ready?”

Without looking at his father, he sighed, “I can't go.”

“You can. And you will.”

“There's nothing the Minister can say that I want to hear.”

“I know you don't much care for his sermons. But I think you should go anyway. We need to have a better idea of what is happening here. Just because some false prophet-”

“She wasn't false. And she never claimed to be a prophet either. Seraphine. That's her name.”  
  


“Just because she says you must kill doesn't mean anything. There is always another way.”

“There is. We could pack up. Sell the orchard. Let Avonlea wither.”

“Gilbert.”  
  


Finally he turned and eyed his father. Noticed for the first time how much older John looked. When he thought of his father it was always in the way of his own youth. Laughing, hearty, and with a merriment that had dulled since his sickness had taken hold. Still, he thought, the illness had passed. But in it's place it had left scars that were now so apparent. Lines and a hunch in his back. Dark skin left around his eyes. His father wasn't the man that lived so well in Gilbert's head.

“Dad, going is pointless. There's is nothing in that church for me.”  
  


“Then don't go for the church. Go for the people. See who is still around. Talk to them. Find out how this all came about. There has to be an answer there. Don't just take someone's word on it. If there is no other way, then that is it. But don't simply accept that without doing your own research. Without seeing what it is you are trying so hard to save, because it isn't the land. It's the people.”

\------

The church was boiling. The line of pews were narrow and the families that sat in them, were sitting stiffly covered in a blanket of sweat. He could remember the church services of his childhood, and the overpowering sound of chattering and gossip. But now it was silent, except for the waving of the ladies fans. Even the children seemed strangely quiet.

He could see that the congregation was smaller than before empty spaces that once held the Prewett's and the Patterson's now sat blank.

There, though, were the Berry's front and center as always and the Lynde's with Rachel sitting straight and watching everything like a hawk.

And in the side back were the old Cuthbert siblings. Matthew seemed oddly older. And he knew that it had been a good number of years since he saw them and that they had always been old, even in his mind. But this felt a bit different. Even Marilla, who even as a youngster fit his idea of spinster, looked haggard.

“Stop gawking, let's find a seat.”

He followed behind his father, feeling suddenly like a child. To be in a place where he spent so much of his childhood, cracking jokes with Moody or setting up silly traps with Charlie. Now they were all grown. Heading off to University or jobs, taking over family farms. Farms that were doomed to fail.

And there for a moment he could see her. She was standing before him, as welcome as rain, her smile which spilled slow and sweet like honey in front of him. But then she was shivering and afraid. She was dying. And he was the one seeing to it.

Her hair turning dark and dirty as she bled. As she was eaten by the very vines that clothed her. She became dust and earth before him.

“Gilbert!” John pulled his sleeve and yanked him to the seat. “What is wrong?”

But even as he tried to shake the sight of her from him, she clung. Her laugh and her cries rung together in his ear.

“Nothing.”

His father shook his head beside him. “You need to stop hiding.”

“I can't explain. There are no words for it.” He wasn't sure if it was a vision or an imagining. He turned to John. “Dad, it's, I don't know what it is. Like a haunting but maybe I am just loosing my mind.”

His father squeezed his shoulder. “Whatever it is. I am with you.”

It was then he noticed Marilla Cuthbert's eyes on him. He offered her a smile and a nod.

“I didn't think we'd ever see you back here.” She said it to his father, but her eyes never left him.

“It was always our intent to come home. It just took awhile to make it.” John's voice for the moment seemed as jovial and young as it had all those years ago, before Alberta. Before his lungs tried to fail him.

“It's unfortunate that you had to return to an Avonlea like this.” His little Dryad came to mind again. One life for something else. That was the price.

John nodded. “It is. But I have hope.”

Marilla didn't nod or smile. She looked neither sad or happy. But somehow full of something. Fierce and dying. “Someone should. I think the rest of us are all out.”

He knew the look on her face. He had seen it before. The set of her eyes and the narrowness of her mouth. The Marilla Cuthbert of his youth had been strict and hard, the softness of her could only be found towards Green Gables and her brother. But something about her seemed different. He knew she had once courted with his father, but had chose her softness over romance.

And now her beloved Green Gables was more than likely dying along with the rest of the town.

His father had been right, he needed to see the ones he would really be saving. Avonlea itself was dirt and grass, fields and sand beaches. But the heart was it's people. Marilla had for all her propriety, had always saved him an extra plum puff. Matthew, even though he was extraordinarily shy, was the one to teach him about the quiet solitude of keeping the vegetable garden. The Berry's had been the ones to suggest the doctor out in Alberta when his father had gotten sick. And as much as he disliked Billy, his sister Prissy had been kind to him when he missed school before they had left. Bringing him his work and gossip of the schoolhouse.

He could let the ground dry up and grow nothing. He wouldn't mind if the sea crashed to the shore and took the land back. But the people, they mattered.

From the pulpit the Minister began. And like always there was fire and brimstone and really no hope for the wicked at all.

\-----

Gilbert found himself wandering the edge of the woods alone after the service had finished. In his mind he wished for solitude, for an understanding for what he had to do. But in his heart he thought of her. The little dryad that really had no place here. He thought of the Them that she had talked of. Of Seraphine and her dark vast eyes. He thought of what it really meant to die.

And inside himself he heard her. The very softness of her voice that wasn't a sound at all. It told him to go and follow, to find her. Still, he was afraid. Not of the other things that lurked in the woods but of forgetting what he must do.

Before, when he had been young and without any fears, he had spent time roaming the woods. Had tried to build forts with the other boys, watched as foxes and squirrels made homes and families around them.

The woods were different now, not just because of the spirits or the dryad. When he had first came back to Avonlea the woods had seemed alive and breathing but it was a falsehood. The life that seemed to coat the woods was a mirage. A magic that covered up the way living really was. It held the animals and the soft breezes, but now it seemed to lack what it needed most, the decay. The dying of living. The trees continued to grow and so did the flowers and weeds. The beauty of such things is the way the continued on, despite the heat or the snow that would come to them.

“Gilbert.” And then she was there, sitting on a rock by the long stream he'd fished in as a child. He'd seen a painting like this once. A women clad only in her hair as water splashed around her. The women had looked off in the distance and had seemed sad and maybe a little lonely.

The dryad had the same loneliness, but it was hid behind a soft whispering smile. “You called me?”

She looked a little puzzled but then laughed. “I guess I did. I was only thinking that I would like to see you again.”

“I felt you inside me. I knew exactly where to go.”

He watched as her grin grew and her glow intensified, the flowers grew wider and gave off a heavy sweet scent.

“That's how it is when you call me too. I said it was like the flowers or the deer. But that's not exactly true. I've never felt a call like yours. It warms me.” The brightness dimmed and the frown overtook her pale face. “It frightens me too. To feel someone in me like that.”

“I was afraid too.” He felt compelled to step closer. Wondered if her skin was cool as it looked. But before he could move she stepped back into the water behind her. “Why did you want to see me?”

Still further she went into the stream that was deeper than it looked. She moved like the water itself. Each step new and unhurried. “I was thinking of your town. Of how much you want it to live.”  
  


“I don't think I've mentioned it before.”

“Not out loud. You've asked me who is causing the dying. But sometimes, when everything around me is very still, I hear your worries, not like words. It doesn't speak to me. But I know them all the same. You think a lot about dying.”

She was floating on her back, he could tell she wanted him to slip into the water with her, but he didn't. Instead he sat on the rock she had abandoned.

“I do. I have for awhile now. Before I came back. Even before I left.”

“Me too. I think of it. What it must be like.”

“To die?”

“Yes. There was a before. In the before, I don't remember it all that well, but sometimes when I close my eyes to rest I can see it. There was a lot of dying. Or I was afraid of it. Or I wanted it. I can't quite recall. Only that it was something important about death.”

He removed his shoes and socks and rolled up his pants, so he could dip his feet in the water. “Before, years ago, my father got sick. They thought he was going to die.” She was swimming on her belly now and looked up at him through watery hair that seemed to made of the stream. Her head turned and she came closer. “No. That isn't when it started.” He reached for her. Just a little. She didn't back away. “My mother died in childbirth. With me. She died and I lived.” His fingers grazed her cheek. She was warm. “That's not it either. I had two older brothers. They died before I was born. One from sickness and the other didn't make it out of infancy.”

“I don't think I can die.” She said. Her face was now resting in his hand, his palm against her cheek. “Maybe I already have. Once. In the before.” She lifted her head but came closer till she was in front of him, then laid her head on his knee. “I don't know why it's coming back now. The thought of it.” She buried her face in fabric of his suit. And he brushed his fingers through her hair. It was as fine as silk. Better. “I think it's you. You make me want to remember.”

“You make me want to forget.”

“What is it you want to forget?” She curled her hand in his suit jacket.

“Everything but this.” She pushed herself away. A wild fearful look in her eyes.

“No. Not that. You don't want that.”

No. He didn't. But for a moment. That was what he was afraid of when he heard her call. That he would forget the church and the people. His father and his lined troubled face. Mary and the baby girl. Bash his brother. But here in front of her, he could think of nothing else besides sinking into the water beside her.

“I'm-”  
  


“Gilbert. I don't know how I know. But I know, I know you mustn't ask for that. To forget. Not here.” She slipped out of the water, away from him.

“I understand. I only want-”

“You should go.”

He shook his head. “Don't ask me to leave now.”

“I won't call you again. I don't want you-”  
  


“I'll remember. I won't forget.” He was gone from the rock and was standing in front of her. She was tiny but he could see how fierce she was. “I won't forget you.”

She nodded. “I don't want to forget you. Or Mary. Or the little one to come. I want to remember you all.”  
  


He should tell her. Tell her about Seraphine and what she had said.

But before he could, she was speaking again. “I think I know who is killing the town. I think I remember her.”  
  


“Her? Is it not the Them?”

Her eyes were blue, so terribly blue. Neither like the sky or the sea. Something beyond anything he'd ever seen. Again, like when she had been afraid last night, she looked more real, the vines sunk into her skin and her hair stopped it's movement. She was frighteningly real, her skin began to cool. He understood then, like he had with the woods themselves, it was a mirage. The way she looked in nothing but earth, the haunting way she moved and the sea of her hair. Those were beautiful the way a painting would be, but it could never be more honest than she was when she was frail and real and human.

“No. No the Them are different. I think she made them. To protect us.”

“Who is she?”

“I don't-” Her eyes widened and she grew paler and smaller looking. “I can't-”  
  


He gathered her in his arms but she pushed him away. She was shaking, her body shivering, and when she spoke it was low. “I have to leave. I can't be here. Not now, she knows. She knows. You have to go. I will call when I can.” And then she turned and ran. Her movement was choppy and scattered.

He went to follow but he could feel her again. Her unspoken pleading to leave her. To go back to his home.

As he left, the sun was setting. He'd lost time in the woods. So much time. And he felt no closer to a resolution.

He turned again before he made his way to the house. The woods swayed with a breeze looking alive.

He remembered.

It was all an illusion.


	7. and there in the water we wait

The heat grew worse. There had been no rain for over a month and the ground grew cracks begging for water. The few apple trees that seemed to cling to life finally fell barren and dry.

The sun clawed it's way to the sky on the Monday after he'd last seen his dryad and stayed. Even at night when it would slip down, it still left it's scorching mark. It felt oppressive and nearly unbearable. There was no reprieve. Mary took to waving a fan in front of her and her movement slowed and stilled. Her hand rested constantly on her belly which looked stretched and bloated.

The children around the village remained indoors and peeking at the glaring sun from behind curtains. There was no laughter. No shade beside the swaying, suddenly ominous looking woods.

On the third week, Gilbert had heard nothing from her and no matter how many times he'd find himself standing on the edge of the woods, he found he couldn't bear to enter, the wells stopped pumping. First it was at the Lenards. Henry, had come to the orchard, near tears, saying that their well had seemed to run dry. They had fixed him with ten pails full. But as he was leaving, Henry turned toward his homestead and sighed, he had finally looked back at John and said he was going to have to sell. He couldn't let his family starve.

“Six generations, John, six. And this is what it has come to. My family buried here. And we will be next if something doesn't come.”

Then the McJames. Who packed up within three days and set off for family in Nova Scotia. Four families after them.

Then, he saw Matthew Cuthbert cross the field between their houses. His face soft and broken. Green Gables, Gilbert knew, was all they had.

“The well is dry for us too.” Matthew said as he settled in front of the Blythe/LaCroix house. The both of them stayed silent for a long terrible minute.

“What can we do? You know that as long as ours holds, you have water too.”

Matthew's sallow face twitched into a empty smile. “I know. You are good people. But-” Matthew's head shook. The sweat rolled quickly down his papery face. “There isn't much to be done. I'm surprised it didn't come to us sooner.”

“I am-” But Gilbert couldn't get the words out. He wanted so terribly to tell him that he was working on it. Trying every night to find a way back into the woods before the pain over took him. Was so worried that he couldn't eat or sleep or think beyond ending this. But he couldn't think of how to explain to Matthew what was really behind the drought.

“I know. I know you feel badly for it. But don't. I know Marilla doesn't believe in it but Avonlea is being punished. It's why all of our farms are going. Why the water is drying up. It's why yours hasn't yet. Still it should have been Marilla and me first.”  
  


Gilbert shook his head. “I can't imagine that either of you have done anything to cause this.”

Matthew's face was grim and pale beside the red patches on his cheeks. “We turned away that child. We sent her back. She's dead because of us. And because of Avonlea's prejudice. Just a girl. She just needed us. And we failed her. Marilla and I most of all. We did try to make it right. I went after her but it was all to late. God has a way of showing us our failures. I believe that. He sent her here to have hope. A home. And we took it from her. And now,” Matthew's arms shot out and then went limp to his sides. “we are paying for it.”

Gilbert had never, in all the years he'd known either of the Cuthbert's heard Matthew speak so much or so quickly.

“I don't understand, what girl, Mrs. Lynde said something of sending a girl you adopted back, but nothing about her dying. And I am sure-”  
  


Matthew's look cut him off. His eyes were bleak and heavy. That was the difference. As long as he'd known both of the Cuthbert's they had shared very little in looks or speech. It was in the eyes. Determined and faithful. Marilla on that long ago Sunday had that lost look. It wasn't sadness or anger. It was a nothingness. To them, there was no more hope.

He heard his father's voice, deep but in it there was a tremble. “I don't think you should give up just yet, Marilla.”

Both him and Matthew looked as his father and Marilla crested over the last hill to their farm.

“It's done, I'm afraid, John. There isn't anything we can do anymore. We can't have a harvest if we haven't any crops. The animals can't live if there's nothing to eat. And neither can we.”

“What will you do?” For a minute he could see what his father would have been like, years ago, young and half in love with Marilla Cuthbert.

It was Matthew who shook his head. “Sale, if we can. And then...I suppose live in Charlottetown. There's really no where else for us. “

Marilla looked at Matthew then, her eyes soft and there finally, horribly he saw her sadness. “Well, it is what it is. And at least, Matthew, we have each other, we aren't alone. Not really. Our home isn't the house or the farm. It's the family.”

There was no smile in return. Instead he took her arm from John and nodded at him and his father. “If there's anything we can do to help your family, especially with Mary expecting, let us know. I don't know how long a sale will take. But until we leave, we are here for you.”

Gilbert watched as the walked away, growing smaller and smaller till they disappeared completely.

Tonight, no matter what, he was going into the woods.

\-----

His father had told him to give up after the third night back from trying to enter the woods. It had taken both John and Bash to drag him up to the house. His breathing ragged and his heart sore. He knew she was calling for him as much as he was her.

But he could not find a way to her.

Bash had begged him to give up after the second week. Gilbert had lost weight and his eyes were black from the pain.

He was afraid his heart would never be the same.

At night, sleepless and aching, he thought of her. Who she was. Where she came from. His dryad. Sometimes when he could go on no more, he saw her in his dreams. Not the way she had been in the beginning, no he thought of her when the light faded and the vines wilted away. It was then that he felt he could touch her. That he could see.

In those dreams, he would not chase her or call to her, instead they sat on the cliff by the Barry's Pond and stared out at the sea and the way it met the sky and the stars. It felt damning and holy all at once. When she spoke then, he couldn't hear her. He strained but she was silent and he was deaf.

Who was the other one. The other she that was killing them off. What had been done to that mystical being, who's wrath was turning the island into a desert.

The answers never came. He'd wake to another hot day. Another day that drew closer to Mary giving birth. Another family having to leave and start over again.

Another failure.

But tonight he had to end it.

He could not let tomorrow come without a change. Without speaking to her.

He had to kill her. He had to save his family.

Tonight, Mary was waiting for him on the porch, she looked uncomfortable and tired.

“I have to.”

She sighed. “I know.” She brushed the hair away from his eyes. “I love you, you know. Like my own flesh and blood.”

He nodded. But he didn't know. He had no idea. What it was to be loved by a woman like this.

“You're my brother, Gilbert. I need you to be safe. To not do anything beyond what you must.”

“I will.” But it felt like deceit on his tongue. He wanted it all. To save everyone.

But when he looked at her, he could see that she knew what the truth was.

“Go to bed, Mary. Rest. I'll be back later.”

What was one more lie.

\-----

The pain started before he left the last row of apple trees. It burned up through his feet, his fingers felt numb and every step left his heart beating faster.

The dizziness came at first in waves then under he went, vision blurring and his breath caught short and wheezed out.

He was at the edge again. He knew he had to go on. He couldn't stop. Not this time. Stumbling forward, he fell rather than stepped beyond the break of the woods.

His breathing didn't ease, and the burning of his feet climbed up his legs and thighs.

“Please.” He begged and coughed and he didn't know exactly what he was asking for. For the dryad to come. For the pain to stop. For all of it stop.

He was afraid and not just of the pain or what was happening in town. He was afraid of what he had to do. Of what it would mean for his very soul.

Maybe, if he did die now, before he had hurt anyone, he might still have a chance at meeting his mother.

“Please.” He called again. Please, he thought over and over.

“Gilbert.” It was her. His couldn't make her out through his own watery eyes. His dryad. There was something different about her now. But the burn twisted now in his stomach. The bile rose. He curled into the ground and she fell beside him.

“Please.” He said to the ground, to whoever was doing all of this.

“It's my fault, oh Gilbert. I am sorry. So sorry. Please. Breath.” She was running her fingers through his hair. She smelled of dirt and decay.

There was no flowers.

Her hands which in the past had felt cool and comforting, were now too warm. She was crying. Her tears plopping on his cheek and rolling down his neck. They were warm too.

“Sorry.” It came out like air. Almost no sound. He was, he was sorry. For what need to be done. For what had happened before and now. Sorry for coming back to Avonlea at all. Sorry, still for her tears.

Suddenly she was up and pulling him. Dragging him across the rough grass and knocking him into roots as she dug her fingers into his arms.

“Don't!” It was a whisper meant as a scream. He couldn't let her take him out of here. He had to follow through. He didn't know if he could make it back here.

“I have too. I must.” She was fully weeping now, her nails cutting into his skin. “I have to get you to the water. You're too hot. You're burning.” He felt rather than saw her trip over a nearby root. But she gathered herself quickly and through the blur he saw that there were no vines covering her. “Please. Please, just hang on. I can get you there.”

The wretched awful pain inched up to his heart, it was beating to fast. It was too much to go on.

“We're almost there. I've got you. I have you. I swear it.” She was clutching him under his arms and pulling him along. He could feel her own heart against his head. Her tears were boiling and dropping like rain down the back of his neck.

The water splashed around him as she tugged him in his back now full against her as the went deeper into the stream.

It sizzled around him. He twisted in sudden terrible agony. But she didn't let him go.

“Breath. Breath. Breath.” She kept whispering to him.

And then he was.

She was holding onto him while treading the water, her blue eyes tinged red, she kept their heads above water while he came alive again.

“Thank you.” He said finally. His own feet treading along with her. She was still holding on to him.

“You shouldn't thank me. It's all my fault. That you're here. That all of this is happening. I should never-” he pulled her close and cut her off.

“Thank you.” He said again into her neck.

“I tried to come to you.” She said when they had made it closer to the shore. “I wanted to find you. To warn you.”

He saw her now. Gone were the blooming flowers and the vines. She no longer glowed in the moonlight. There was dirt smudged under her eye and across her cheek. She looked thinner too.

“What happened?”

“She knew.”

“You never said who she was.” She turned from him. Her skin shadowed with water and towering trees. Tied across her chest was what looked like a torn dirty rag acting like a shirt.

“She's the one who does everything.” She still wasn't looking at him. Her head bowed and her fingers were twisting together. “She said you were going to take me. To hurt me.”

“No!” But it was another lie. Wasn't it, he thought, he had come tonight, had come almost every night to kill her. “I don't want that.”

Still she looked away. “Would it save your town? Your family?”

“I-” But he couldn't tell her. Couldn't say out loud to her what the cost of their living would be.

She finally turned and her face was pale and achingly frail. But not afraid. “I don't think I am what I am suppose to be.”

He trailed his fingers down her cheek. But she didn't blink. “I-”

She shook her head and pushed his hand away, choosing instead to hold it in her lap. “I've been dreaming since you last left. Of other things. Things that came before- before-” her fingers squeezed his, “of what was it like when I was something else. Someone else.”

“I don't want to hurt you.” He leaned forward till his forehead was against hers. “In Charlottetown, before, when you told us about the baby, I saw a witch. She said-” The words lodged in his throat.

“You must do it then.”

“You don't even know what you're asking for.” He wrenched back.

“What is happening to your town?” She stood and paced in the shallow water. “I can hear it, the cries of your people. I- I never wanted to hurt anyone- they are suffering.”

He nodded, though she wasn't looking at him. “The wells are running dry. Six families have already left. The Cuthbert's are next.”

She whipped around quickly, her eyes wide and lips trembling.

“I don't blame you.” He said standing to reach her. She was shaking her head.

“I know that name.”

“Cuthbert's?”

“I dreamed it. About the before.” Her arms wrapped around herself. “I don't know what it means. I don't want them, any of them to hurt. No wells, No water. The animals and the families they'll die!”

“That's why they're leaving. It's not you, it's her, whoever she is.”

“It's my fault. For letting you into the woods. For wanting you here.” She was crying again, but the sound was quiet, just tears falling from her eyes. “How will you do it?”

“I don't know.” He covered his face with his hands and tried to think.

“If that's what the witch said-”

He let his hands drop to his sides. 

“I tried to ask her again.” He laughed but it was the ugliest sound. “I walked back. It took days. But I had- I don't want- but she said she told me all she could. The rest she said was up to me.”

“Will it hurt?” She looked young. Not scared but nervous.

His own eyes grew heavy with tears. “No.”

“Do you know for sure?”

He didn't.

“I don't know anything. Except I don't want this.”

“What did your witch say?”

She was in his arms again. Her face pressed to his chest. He ran his fingers over her hair. “She said it was the town or you. I could keep one but not the other.”  
  


“Then you have to.”

“I can't hu-”

She pulled him tighter to her. “You must. I-” He heard more than felt her lips press into his chest. “I think I am not meant to be here. Maybe it is a service for us both. Your town and me. I-”

He kissed the top of her head. “I still-” He couldn't. He wanted to save lives, not end them. And how was he to do it. “ I can't do it now. I can't.”

She broke from him and stared at him without flinching. “It has to happen.”

“Not now.” She opened her mouth to speak again, but he shook his head. “I mean not tonight. I can't do it tonight. I thought- but I want to know how to at least-” he stumbled over his tongue. “I don't want it to hurt.”

She nodded but didn't go back to him. He looked at her again, saw the torn rags acting as clothes, felt his heart ache but not burn.

“Why doesn't it hurt anymore, why are you- what happened?” Gilbert asked.

She shrugged. “I am not her girl anymore. Or she is punishing me. I-” she was silent for a few long moments. “She gifted me this water. It's mine and she has no power here. I stay here now. I can't even get to my animals.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I'm not. I- I think this is best. I think, I can't remember exactly, only that this isn't real. I mean, that what we are isn't. Not the way I want it to be. We're hurting people. I'm not sorry that it's ending. It needs too. I-”

“Who are you?” He asked. His heart hurt and the pain was different than before and it hurt for her. Her bravery at knowing what was coming. Of not hating him.

“I wish I could remember.”

“I wish-” She cut him off as she kissed him. Her lips were chapped and worn. But it was all he had ever wanted.

“Don't wish here, Gilbert. It could be the end of everything. I,” her head was shaking again. “I am afraid. But somehow, I don't even know why, I trust you. I know you would do it all differently if you could.”

He started to speak but she stopped him again. “You must go. Find the best way. And I will find a way to you. I- I don't know what will happen once it's done. But it is probably best it's not in the woods.” She smiled at him. The first time tonight. It was soft and smooth but sad. “I'll lead you out.”

He took her hand. It was warm and rough.

She was no longer filled with magic.

She had never been more real.


End file.
